


perfect

by burningallofmybridges



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 15x20 sucked, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, First Kiss, Heaven, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Canon Fix-It, Roadhouse in Heaven (Supernatural), because jack fixed heaven, but its fine, everyone's dead, im salty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:42:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27928471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burningallofmybridges/pseuds/burningallofmybridges
Summary: Heaven. Yay. Perfect Paradise in capital letters.Dean didn’t think it was so perfect.Basically, I'm salty about 15x20 and the horrifying lack of Destiel in it. So I wrote angst about it
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, John Winchester/Mary Winchester
Comments: 6
Kudos: 71





	perfect

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, I'm fucking salty about the finale. so, here be Destiel angst
> 
> This is my first fic here so please be nice  
> I'd love some comments, especially constructive criticism

Heaven. Yay. Perfect Paradise in capital letters.

Dean didn’t think it was so perfect.

Sure, Dean was grateful Jack had sorted out whatever had been going on with Heaven before. It made the afterlife a lot more enjoyable, knowing he could just poke his head into the door of a house and see someone he loved. Knowing that everyone, even Kevin, was at rest in a good place brought peace to his mind, a peace he hadn't felt since...

Since never. Since he sat and laughed with... No. Don't say it.

Dean knew it was selfish and stupid, trying to run from the memories, the heartbreak, the pain, but still, he persisted. He refused to accept because accepting would make it real. He didn't know how much time had passed on Earth, but he figured it had bee a while. After all, Claire had appeared last week, stumbling into the arms of Jody, who'd been in Heaven for a few months at least. Claire looked older, about 30, but Dean knew that how you appeared on Heaven depended on your age at death and the age of your soul.

He knew his train of thought was drifting, and he welcomed it. Anything to stop him thinking of... that. That day, that precious, heartbreaking speech that tore Dean's world to pieces and left his heart drowning in guilt, grief and love. Overwhelming love that he had resisted for so long because he thought that it would never be accepted. Dean had feared the pain of rejection would have been bad, but the pain of acceptance that came too late was worse. He couldn't describe the hollow ache within him, threatening to swallow his whole being.

He didn't know it, but others saw it too. Mary saw it when he turned to look at someone who wasn't there to share a joke. Eileen saw it when he smiled at a comment no-one had made. Bobby saw it when he absentmindedly rested his hand on his left shoulder. Sam saw it whenever Dean smiled that smile. The smile he saved for a special person, a person who he carried in his heart and his soul and his pain. So much pain.

He woke up sometimes, in the warm wooden cabin he'd built himself down the road from Sam and Eileen's place, with a desperate scream of a name that he refused to acknowledge.

He liked his cabin. It was warm and inviting. What did it matter that his room was a bit too big, or that the closet had an empty rail? What did it matter that sometimes he cooked one too many pancakes, or that he sometimes poured an extra glass of whiskey that was never drunk? What did it matter that, when he was travelling the vastness that was Heaven, he would glance in the rear-view mirror, expecting a flash of a tan trenchcoat and slightly ruffled black hair and the bluest eyes he'd ever gazed into and the slight tremor of power that always seemed to follow-

No. NO. Dean wasn't going to follow that thought that had got so wildly out of control. Leaning his axe against a tree, he gazed out over the lake before him. He could see the roofs of houses, houses that belonged to friends and family. Friends and family who'd died in his name, in his quest for freedom. A freedom he never got to enjoy. He resented that, after working so hard for his world. At least Sam had been able to enjoy it.

Dean didn’t think he would have been able to enjoy his new-found freedom anyway. He wouldn’t have had anyone to share it with, except for Miracle, and even he would have passed on eventually. 

He was lonely. This shocking conclusion came to Dean one night when he was lying in bed. Sleep wasn’t something he required as much as he had when he was alive, but it was still something he enjoyed. He had eternity, after all.

Eternity alone. Alone in a too-big cabin with nothing but his Baby and a limitless supply of alcohol. And his memories.

Dean hadn’t realised it for years, but being alone was something he feared the most. He guessed that was where his constant need for Sam to be by his side stemmed from, and his obsessive concern over Cas.

Dammit. A wave of self-loathing, hurt, guilt and pure, wonderful, unadulterated love swapped Dean, bringing him to his knees with a soundless sob. The force of suppressing the rawest emotion Dean knew sapped all the strength from him, compelling him to face something he’d avoided for so long.

Invisible tears streaked his face, weighing his head down. His shoulders ached from carrying so much pain, the pain he hated, loathed and loved. Hated because it hurt. Loathed because it had controlled him for so long, and was continuing to do so. Loved because it represented the purest, most profound form of love ever known to mankind. As Charlie had jokingly said to Sam when he told her of Cas’ sacrifice, it was the Greatest Love Story Ever Told. 

Dean didn’t know of this conversation, of course. He didn’t know of any of the conversations Sam had with everyone they knew, warning them of Dean’s emotional state. He never noticed how nobody mentioned Cas around him, or how they fretted and worried behind his back when he nearly cried at a joke Charlie had made upon meeting Jo, about “the last time someone looked at me like that...”.

All Dean knew was that there was a massive gap in the Heaven he’d dreamed of since… Since the first Apocalypse, when Sam came back soulless. Or maybe since he lost he Mark or Cain and could think clearly for the first time in too long. Or maybe since Ramiel and the Lance of Michael, or maybe since Lucifer had stabbed the angel he loved more than anything on that beach, leaving Dean desolate next to an empty vessel.

“The angel he loved more than anything”. Dean had long since known that as true, but only recently accepted it. He’d accepted it when he was curled up sobbing on the dungeon floor, listening to call after call from Sam ring out, wishing that it had gone any other way. Wishing that he had held on for one more second, talked around the lump in his throat that was choking him, suffocating him as he tried to take in that his angel was standing in front of him saying “I love you” in the way only his angel could.

Dean forced back the overwhelming emotion that was swamping any coherent thought he had, wiping his face and breathing in through his nose. Briefly shutting his eyes, he pushed himself back upright and gazed back out over the lake with slightly redder eyes than he had earlier. Picking up his axe, he ignored the wood that was unevenly stacked in a messy pile and wandered back to his cabin. He dropped the axe into its hook on the outside wall and pulled out his keys. Baby was parked in the garage he and Bobby had built, where they would fix up cars together and ignore the stifling emotion in every joke that didn’t quite have enough humour in it, and every laugh that never really made it to his eyes.

His eyes, so deep and full of enough sadness to drown anyone else. His eyes that had flimsy walls dragged up every time he looked at anyone. His eyes that always opened with tears in mornings. His eyes, that so rarely showed any joy. His eyes that longed for another pair of eyes.

Eyes that were cobalt blue to his emerald green. Eyes that were soothing to his pain. Eyes that were kind to his anger. Eyes that were shut to his open. Eyes that were gone.

Gone.

Gone. Never to see again.

Dean unlocked the Impala, sliding into the leather seat he’d known his whole life. He twisted the key, listening to the greatest sound in Heaven purr under his hands. So many memories, happy, sad, angry and loving had been woven like silken tapestries in this car that was so much more than just a car. She was an anchor, a home, a mother and a friend. She’d been there when they needed her, and she’d been there when they hadn’t. She represented lives that gave everyone else a better chance, a better future for a world of free will.

She gently eased onto the road, following winding strips of smooth tarmac around mountains, through forests and past random houses that held loving families within them. Dean parked her with ease on a small ledge overlooking the valley that held the Roadhouse, Bobby’s place, Sam and Eileen’s house and Dean’s cabin. If he turned around, he could see more of his family, living out eternity in happy peace. He shut his eyes, breathing in and allowing a little hope to enter his grieving heart.

“Cas? I- I dunno if you can hear me. I hope, man I hope you can, I hope you can hear me. I- I- I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I just- I just stood there and stared at you. I wish I had said something, anything. Anything to let you know-”

“Let me know what?”

Dean opened his eyes and raised his head that he had unconsciously bowed in prayer. He looked behind him over his shoulder, turning his whole body to look at the angel in a trenchcoat standing barely 20 feet away from him. His mouth dropped slightly open as he stared in complete shock at Cas, who was standing with slightly windswept hair, coat and tie fluttering slightly in the wind that was swirling around the rocky ledge. His eyes were gazing into Dean's as they so often had in another life, open and honest and loving. Dean didn’t know how hed managed to miss just how loving Cas’ gaze was.

He tripped a step forwards, then stopped. He didn’t dare walk any further forwards, in case this was just another dream. Cas stepped closer too, tilting his head and squinting his eyes the way he had when they had first met in a barn so many torturous years ago.

“Let me know what, Dean?” Cas' rough voice carried over to Dean's ears, like a coarse melody, not quite smooth, but beautiful to Dean nonetheless. Cas was filling the cracks in Dean's guilty, aching, pleading soul with electric-blue, loving grace.

A sob slipped through Dean’s lips. He fell forwards, towards Cas, clumsily moving towards the angel, his angel, begging that it wasn’t a trick, that it wasn’t another dream.

He almost crashed into Cas but stopped at the last moment. They were barely a breath’s away from each other, as they had been so many times in so many emotionally fraught moments when they were alive. Except Dean had never felt so alive as he did now, staring at Cas who he’d believed was gone forever believing no-one cared about him the way he cared about the Righteous Man.

“Cas?” Deans voice was scratchy from the pent up love, tears and desperation in his throat. “Cas, is that really you?”

“Hello Dean.”

Dean let out another sob when he heard the two words that had haunted him for far too long. He collapsed into Cas’ shoulder, breaking the barrier that had held them back for too many years. He let his arms hang loose, tears soaking into the tan trenchcoat. When he felt Cas bring his arms up to hug him back, any whisper of a thought that this was a trick was wiped from his mind, and he relaxed his legs. Dean brought his arms up to clutch desperately at the trenchcoat that had lurked in the corners on his vision everywhere he went.

Pulling back from quite possibly the most intense hug he’d ever had, Dean let his hands rest on Cas’ shoulders, keeping his face close enough to feel Cas’ breath. “Don’t you ever do that to me again, you hear me?” Dean’s voice broke, and he took a halting breath. “I can’t- I cannot exist, dead or not, without you. You mean too much to me to just check out!” Dean’s voice rose, and one hand had travelled to Cas’ neck.

“Ok Dean.” Cas was still holding onto Dean, one hand on his back, on hand on his left shoulder, where the handprint had once been. “Ok Dean.”

Dean let out a weak chuckle, relief sweeping through his veins and lightening the weight he'd been carrying so much he felt like he was floating. Cas smiled at hearing Dean laugh and tightened his grip on Dean’s shoulder. Dean slid one foot slightly further forwards until he was so far into Cas’ personal space he could have staked a flag there and claimed it as his.

As it was, Dean merely stared into the pair of eyes he had missed for what felt like centuries and closed the gap between them.

And as Dean Winchester closed his eyes whilst kissing his angel that he’d so desperately missed in a Heaven that had everyone he loved in it, he knew what perfect really meant.

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment and kudos, I really want to know how you guys think I can improve my writing  
> <3 katz


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